Memories & Heartbeats
by ThatGirlIsabel
Summary: My take on what could have happened during the standoff, who was shot and whatnot. Faith's POV. Rated for good old fashioned shootin' and cussin'.


I own nothing. Wait, no, that ain't true. I own stuff, but you can't have it. I don't own anything related to Third Watch or NBC though, so don't sue.

I wrote this the other day, kinda hoping this is the way the season 5 premiere would turn out. It picks up from pretty much the start of the confrontation in Noble's room. Oh, and if the tenses confuse you, feel free to email or AIM me and I'll clear it right up. Wouldn't be the first time I've confuzzled the masses with my writing. Oh, and its un-beta'd due to the rush to finish typing this up so it'd be posted before the new season popped up. My apologies if it sucks, but oh well, I wrote the damn thing and here it is. I live for feedback.

Memories & Heartbeats

_______

_"Why, Bosco? Why is it always me?"_

_"Because you're the only one… Faith, I don't have anyone else."_

Only for him.

Only for the man with whom she can trust her life on a daily basis. The man who manages to piss her off and make her smile at the same time. The only man she loves as much as she does her husband.

She doesn't sneak into hotel rooms during her meal period for just anybody.

That bitch had damn near stolen him away from her, with those lies and manipulations and tight little ass. She'd just dangled them all in front of his nose so she could watch him dance for her. Star, she called him. He was going to be her star.

One day she's going to kick that slut's ass good and proper. She's going to wipe that sneer right the fuck off of her little gnome face, and it'll be funny as hell. 

An awful thought enters her mind. This might be the very last time she sees her partner.

In street clothes, a cap and a coat, his badge hanging from his neck like some misshapen, overgrown dogtag. Right hand on his auto as The Gnome makes another demand for Noble's gun.

She'll never again see that cocky smile she can't seem to live without. Never again roll her eyes at him as he single-handedly sends the testosterone level shooting through the locker room roof. Never again ride in his Mustang or feel his soft touch on her back moments after an argument. 

Never again speak to him by meeting his eyes.

Sure, you can have the gun, all right. Come and get it.

_"We'll split up forever. I'll transfer to another precinct, for Christ's sake. If that's what you want."_

It's the last thing she wants.

There have been instances in the past where they were separated, even before Sully's wife had been murdered and long before The Gnome had come into their midst. Although they hadn't been apart for very long, the time away from her partner was enough to make her miss the sound of his voice and long for his distinctive scent.

She imagines it's akin to the way Davis no doubt misses the characteristic scowls and cynicism from Sully when they don't ride together.

_"How's it been?"_

_"Oh, you know. Seven hours of complete boredom mixed with one hour of sheer terror."_

_"Yeah? I miss it."_

Neither of them had said the words, but they knew.

Cruz isn't the type to try and merely incapacitate her. She won't aim for the leg or fire a disarming shot. She's going to shoot to kill.

Faith wonders what her last words to Bosco will be.

Something awful and clichéd like "Tell Fred and my babies I love them," or "I'll be waiting for you in the big roll call in the sky, partner"? Maybe a simple, "I love you, Bos," or "I'm sorry."

Then again, maybe she won't have the chance. The Gnome might end up capping her right in the face.

She takes half a second too long to transfer the gun to her right hand, and Cruz squeezes off the first shot.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The next thing she's aware of is a great crushing blow to her chest, and the sight of Noble's ceiling as she hits the floor.

At least she still has her face.

She can see that Cruz is down, too, just a few feet from her near side. Her head is bouncing around wildly, the rest of her body in some sort of perverse spasm. She looks like she's giving the floor a messy blowjob, but Faith realizes that the action is due to the fact that Bosco is standing over her, pumping round after round into her head.

She can't see Bosco from her position on the floor, but she has no reason to doubt that he's the one filling the Sergeant's face with lead.

She wants to tell him to stop wasting bullets on Cruz and call the paramedics before she bleeds to death, but she can't.

She can't breathe.

So much for last words.

Bosco's automatic clack-clacks as it fires on a spent clip.

Grateful though she is that he feels the need to avenge her by emptying his gun into Cruz, what she needs is for him to call for help. She tries to say his name, but comes up short. The pain in her chest intensifies and she silently screams for her lungs to cooperate.

The pounding of rapidly retreating footfalls tells her that someone is running out of the room. At the same moment, the spent gun makes a sick wet smack as it lands in the bloody carpet next to The Gnome's ruined body.

Boy, when Bosco goes for help, he really goes for help.

Something wet is on her face, rolling sideways to soak into the carpet fibers beneath her own body. She lets the tears flow freely because she's going to die all alone here in this crappy room. She's going to either suffocate or bleed to death here on her back while her partner gallivants up and down the streets yelling for a doctor.

"Faith?"

She recognizes the voice as Bosco's before she realizes that he is there. He says her name again and kneels at her side, tossing his cap behind him.

That was fast. But where the hell are the paramedics? And where did-- oh. Bos hadn't even left. It was Noble hauling ass out of here like a bat out of hell.

He hadn't left her after all.

The thought brings even more tears to her eyes. Good old Bosco is going to stay with her and hold her hand as she dies.

_"It's the only thing that you're good at. You don't use your head. You have no sense of discretion; you just go around and you arrest everybody. Unless _I _need you to, apparently. I am your partner, Bosco. You're supposed to have my back. And I do everything for you, and you are never there for me, ever! I bail you out all the time, and I'm sick of it! I'm sick of you! You're just, like, so immature, and you are unreliable, and you are useless. You hear me? You are useless!"_

Useless. How could she have been so spiteful, so cruel as to call him that and then stand idly by as he drove to her apartment to bring Em and Charlie to the hospital for her of his own accord? He could have tossed back a merry "fuck you, too," and left her side forever, but he hadn't.

He stood there and let her kill him with her words.

He put on a brave face and let her say all those horrid things to him. All those lies.

She wishes to God she could take those words back, but heartfelt apologies are hard as hell to deliver when you can't breathe and it feels like an anvil has been dropped on your chest. Any second now, she's bound to start coughing up blood.

Either he can read the guilt in her eyes or the situation looks hopeless enough that false words of encouragement are needed, because Bosco cups her face in his hands and tells her to shhh.

"You're gonna be okay, you hear me?" he tells her, sounding as if he needs to be convinced himself. The terror and pain in his eyes no doubt reflects her own. "Listen to me, Faithy, you're gonna be fine, I promise. You'll be fine."

Oh, shit. Faithy? She must really be dying.

Tiny spots of light appear at the edges of her vision and perform a psychotic dance, like miniature flashbulbs bursting all over the place.

They piss her off because they're blocking Bosco's face. If this is the last time she's going to see him, she wants a clear view, damnit.

She tries to inform him of her breathing difficulties, but the words that issue forth aren't words so much as what she imagines a bear cub recently separated from its mother sounds like.

Buttons zing in all directions as Bosco rips open her uniform shirt. A stray shard of light reflects off of her badge, joining forces with the offending flashes to further obscure Bosco's face.

The unmistakable sound of tearing Velcro reaches her ears, and she braces herself for the torrent of blood that will undoubtedly gush forth once he has her vest completely open and her sucking chest wound uncovered.

Bosco moves at almost inhuman speed; the thick Kevlar vest parts and before it's completely out of the way he has her thin undershirt torn in half and his hands are on her belly.

She knows her next heartbeat will be her last.

There is a terrible moment of deafening silence as he stares down at her chest, unmoving, before he raises his head to look her in the eye.

And he laughs.

"What the fuck is so damn funny?" The words are out of her mouth before she realizes she's speaking them. She still bears vocal semblance to a bawling Grizzly cub, but she can talk, and if she can talk, she can breathe.

Kind of.

Now his hands are on her face again, trembling hands slick with sweat instead of her blood.

He leans forward, resting his forehead against hers. She's almost expecting it when she feels his hot tears mix with her own.

"You vest," he whispers, a tremor in his voice. "The vest caught it, thank God."

She wants to laugh and cry and sing in praise of Kevlar right along with him. She wants to hold him like she never has and beg him not to leave her ever again.

But it's still difficult to breathe, and too many words will destroy the quiet simplicity of the moment. She pulls him as close as the pain in her chest will allow and whimpers his name through her tears.

The tiny flashes grow in size and intensity even as she shuts her eyes against them. She fears she may pass out.

"Take me back?" Bosco's voice is small and pleading. 

"Always." She has to whisper to get the word out so that it can be deciphered by beings other than mama bears.

He takes a shaky breath and doesn't let go of her, almost as if she'll vanish if he does. "I never meant for this to happen, Faith."

"Hey." She opens her eyes now and looks into his, using every resource she has to make him understand: "I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Faith decides she's okay with losing consciousness now. She'll wake up at Mercy with a bruise the size of Ellis Island and a grisly conversation piece in her battered vest, but that's fine.

Because she got in her last words, after all.


End file.
